| The Sounds I See at Night Sometimes, in the very late hours, I listen to the home that's ours. The click of lights, but it's not dark- I hear the trains out past the park. I see my brother on each step. I know it's him - he's full of pep. My Family prays, I suppose we're sheep, On our knees, before we sleep. The moon might make a ghostly scene, But the sounds of my home are the nicest I've seen! |
| Jude Keenan |
| Copyright 2000 published in "In-Between_Days", The International Library of Poetry |